


Never Gave A Damn About the Weather

by Arsenic



Category: Bandom, Panic! at the Disco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-09-21
Updated: 2008-09-21
Packaged: 2020-08-11 09:49:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20151661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arsenic/pseuds/Arsenic
Summary: Seven ficlets written in honor of Jon Walker's 23rd birthday, based on weather prompts.





	Never Gave A Damn About the Weather

**hermitsoul, Tom/Jon, hail**  
  
"Ow, fuck!" Tom laughed, but he also held up a hand to shield his head.

Jon grabbed the other hand and started running. "Let's go."

It wasn't far to the nearest shelter--a MacDonald's--but by the time they got there, both of them were going to have some serious bruising. Tom looked out the window, panting a little. "That shit has to be the size of M&Ms. At least."

Jon nodded in agreement and then shivered as a gust of air-conditioning hit him right between the shoulder blades. Freak hail storms in the summer were the absolute worst. "Fries?" he asked.

"Fries," Tom agreed happily, and the two of them went to order and wait out the angry, falling ice from inside, where they could stick their tongues out at it safely.

*

After an hour of alternating rain and hail, it became clear that they had two choices: 1) spend the day in MacDonald's or 2) make a mad dash for home in one of the rain periods and hope they made it.

Tom said, "MacDonald's has bathrooms. It's not the worst place to camp out."

Jon said, "I have four days at home. You really wanna suck my dick in that bathroom?"

Tom looked like he was considering it. Jon said, "That's gross even for you," and pushed him out the door.

*

"This is all your fault," Tom said, when it started hailing half way into their ten minute sprint.

"I'll make it up to you," Jon told him, unimpressed by Tom's whining.

"And what does that even mean, gross even for me? Asshole."

"Whatever. I've seen the shit you'll eat off the floor."

"That's a survival skill. I'll never starve."

"Oh yeah, because you've got those in spades."

"At least I'm not the one who said, 'hey, let's go play in the hail.'"

Jon rolled his eyes and opened his building door, yelling after a still-running Tom, "Where're you going?"

*

They stripped once they were in the door, and Jon was never more glad for how easy it was to be around Tom, to just breathe around him, than he was in moments like this. Tom said, "You owe me coffee, fucker," and smacked his ass on the way to running bath water. "Bubbles? No bubbles?"

"Depends. Did you _bring_ the bubble bath? Because otherwise, fuck if I know where you're gonna find some around here."

Tom snorted and continued on to the bathroom. Jon set his coffee maker to keep the coffee warm once it had percolated and slipped into the bathroom behind Tom, sucking on an-already forming bruise until Tom was cursing him out and the thing was going to be the darkest hickey ever to have lived. Then he said, "You can fuck me in the tub."

"Oh, generous," Tom said.

"Saying you don't want to?"

"In the tub _and_ I get to take naked pictures of you drinking coffee."

"Freak."

"Freak's boyfriend."

Jon laughed. "They show up on the internet, I'm telling everyone you like ponyplay."

"You _would_ look good with a tail," Tom said thoughtfully.

Jon laughed, and pulled them into the tub.

**secrethappiness, Jon/Brian, cold steady drizzle**  
  
It wasn't even really raining in New York, nothing more than a non-stop fall of rain that was a little too much to walk out in, but not enough to carry an umbrella for. Evidently, though, the storm had amassed further south down the coast and it was causing all kinds of flights to be canceled. My Chem was trying to get out to continue on with their tour down in Charlotte, Panic had a music charity event in Nashville of all places and LaGuardia was a cesspit of bands trying to escape post-VMAs. Jon wasn't entirely sure how he ended up being volunteered to go get coffee for his guys, but he didn't mind. He was stir crazy anyway, and Brian went with him to do a run for My Chem.

Jon said, "Hey, so, uh, have we ever done the, hi, I'm Jon Walker, thing?"

Brian smiled a little. "Brian Schechter. Nice to meet you."

Jon put in the order for Brendon's decaf latte with soy milk, Ryan's cappuccino and Spencer's and his own dark roast. Brian ordered, "Six of whatever your daily blend is."

Jon said, "Oh, sure, make me look like the prima donna."

Brian didn't say anything, just raised an eyebrow. They moved over to wait for their drinks. Jon stared out the window to where planes were waiting far more patiently than the humans who wanted to be on them. "I hate this kind of weather."

"I thought you were the one from Chicago."

"I am. So?"

"Just. I mean, I'm from Michigan. This is...well, not abnormal."

"My love of Chicago doesn't so much cover its weather," Jon admitted.

After a moment, Brian said, "Fair enough. I hate airports."

Jon sensed from the tense line of Brian's shoulders that it was more than an ordinary hatred. He nodded sympathetically.

"They make me want to drink."

Jon thought about the row of bars they had passed on their way, how the waiting got under everyone's skin, made them irritable. It made _him_ want a drink, too, and he wasn't an alcoholic. "Don't suppose the coffee really helps with that, huh?"

Brian's laugh had a definite edge. "Not even just a little, really."

Jon asked, "Does anything?"

"Not-- Not anything feasible," Brian said tiredly, running his hand over his face.

"The internet tells me I'm magic," Jon said.

"Really, does it?"

"Also, that I fix things."

"Wow."

"So maybe if you told me--"

Quietly, but forcefully, Brian said, "You don't suck cock, by any chance, do you, Walker?" his eyes squarely on Jon's, daring him, fucking daring him to get uppity.

Jon grinned. "You know what's really, _really_ magic?"

Brian looked curious despite himself. Jon said, "My mouth," and went to go get the coffees as his name was called.

*

They delivered the coffees and Brian and Jon wandered off to "explore." Gerard gave Jon a calculating look, but Bob exchanged glances with Brian and settled his hand on Gerard's shoulder. Gerard didn't say anything, but Jon felt him watching as they walked off. They found a bathroom with a diaper-changing station where they could lock the door and Jon didn't waste time, just pushed Brian against the wall, went to his knees and opened Brian's jeans up. He took the head in and gave it a strong suck before circling his hand around the base and swallowing as much as he could. Despite his bravado, Jon knew that blowjobs weren't his greatest strength. His were always messy and lacked quite a bit as far as finesse went, but Jon had had more than one mouth around his dick in his time and he knew that it honestly didn't matter. Unless it was traumatically bad, a blowjob pretty much rocked.

Jon could feel some of the tension leeching from Brian before he was even particularly well into the proceedings. It took a while and at one point Jon pulled off to relax his jaw a little. Brian said, "Sorry, kinda--"

"No worries. I get it." Jon did, too. It had been a while, but there had been times when he'd been too wound up to really even feel it at first.

After that, though, Brian sighed a little and said, "Yeah, Jon, that's--" and carded his fingers through Jon's hair in a way that Jon enjoyed. Jon just kept at it until Brian came. He was quiet about it, and Jon wondered how much practice he had at doing this in public places. It was a hot thought. He spit in the sink and rinsed his mouth and Brian kissed him, hard and appreciative.

Jon asked, "Mind if I borrow your hand?"

Brian laughed, and opened the button on Jon's jeans.

*

When they returned, Spencer said, "I think your coffee might've gotten cold."

Jon glanced over at Brian, who was massaging Mikey's shoulders while fielding a phone call on his cell. He must have felt Jon looking, because he flashed him a smile. Gerard gave him one too, then Ray, then Bob. Frank was talking to Mikey. Jon smiled back. He told Spencer, "Worse things have happened."

**complications_g, Tom/Jon, thunderstorm**  
  
Jon didn't wake to the thunder, he woke to the lightening, a great quick flash of it and mumbled, "Why're you taking pictures?"

Tom laughed, clearly more awake. "It's a stom, dumbass."

Just then the thunder followed in the lightening's wake and Jon said, "Oh."

"You're late to the party," Tom told him. "It's been going on for at least an hour now."

Jon almost never woke until the storm was right on top of them, if then. He rolled closer into Tom, almost atop him and pulled the covers up over them.

"Cold?" Tom asked.

"No," Jon said, "just--"

"In the mood," Tom finished.

"Mm." Jon missed Tom like hell when he was away, wished that it were easier for Tom to come, stay with them on the road more often these days. They weren't committed, not exactly, but Jon rarely ever felt like being with anybody else, and as far as he knew, Tom was pretty much the same, so it was something similar to monogamy. Even if it hadn't been, he still would have missed Tom, missed the way Tom knew him, the way Tom could see him without having to look twice or ask too many questions.

Tom swept his thumb lazily over the small of Jon's back. The rain on the roof was creating a steady if imperfect tattoo, interrupted only by elongated bursts of thunder. Tom said, "I fucking love storms."

"Mm," Jon agreed again, and let Tom's heat and the sounds of the storm lull him back to sleep.

*

It was still storming in the morning so there was nothing to do but lay in bed until hunger drove them from it. They fucked slowly, fingers wisping over familiar spots, quiet gasps shared between them but very few words. Afterward they lay, half-dozing, half-discussing Brendon's latest idea for a new tattoo and Max's new girlfriend until Tom said, "Coffee and eggs?"

Jon said, "I'll make the coffee."

*

Fortified by protein and caffeine, they sat on the couch with their guitars and worked on things that were bothering them, pieces that it helped to have an outside ear on. Jon said, "Jesus, could you be any lazier with your fingering?" and Tom asked, "Shit, did you borrow that sound from the dying howls of a cat?" but other than the occasional smack talking, which was tradition and of the highest import, they managed to get some decent advice from each other.

When they felt like they deserved it, or really just when their hands were feeling the strain, they stopped and sixty-nined on the floor, which was messy and Jon bitched about having to find the Swiffer, but Tom just said, "Whatever, you liked it while we were doing it," and honestly, Jon had.

*

The storm finally let off around three and Tom went out on the deck. He loved the smell of the city directly post-storm. Jon joined him a moment later with fresh coffee. He hadn't bothered to put shoes on and the deck was cold and wet under his feet. Jon wiggled his toes happily.

Tom said, "I miss this part when you're gone."

"The coffee?"

"The...not quiet quiet." Tom looked as though he thoroughly expected to be mocked, but Jon just nodded.

Tom took a sip of the coffee. "The coffee, too."

Jon laughed softly. "Thought so."

**elucrah, Jon/Brendon, raindrops falling all around**  
  
"Are you whistling 'Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head'?"

"I have excellent whistling skills, Sundance," Brendon said. He didn't sound as cheerful about it as one might have expected.

"You do, er, Butch," Jon reassured him.

"I'm sorry I got us lost," Brendon said in a small voice.

And really, given that Brendon had wanted to take a walk following an unusually loud fight with his parents regarding the upcoming holiday season, and it hadn't looked like it was going to rain at all when they'd left the hotel and Jon had been paying just about as much attention as Brendon--which was to say, none at all--there was nothing to say to that except, "We'll find it. We've both got our cells on us. If nothing else we can call Zack."

"I _hate_ having to tell Zack we got lost."

Jon did too, but he hated not showing up for a show even more. "Hey."

Brendon looked over at him. Jon whistled a little. After a moment, Brendon smiled ever so slightly and joined in.

*

Just as Jon was fairly certain they'd found the right direction, it started pouring. It was a warm rain, but there was a lot of it and Jon gasped in shock for a second. Next to him, Brendon stood still for a moment, but then just started laughing.

Jon yelled, "Puddle fight!" and Brendon didn't even hesitate, just threw himself, both feet first, into the largest puddle he could find. Jon had more weight behind his jumps, but nobody, _nobody_ could match Brendon for sheer energy and also, deviousness. Jon wasn't sure how, but Brendon seemed to make the puddles larger with the sheer power of his mind.

By the time the rain had let up ever so slightly they were both soaked to the bones and laughing too hard to see straight. Brendon's phone rang and he answered, "We're fine."

Jon could hear Zack's grumble on the other end of the line and Brendon said, "Yes, dad," but when he hung up he said, "I think Papa Bear is going to eat us if we don't hurry," which was code for, "light a fire under your ass."

*

Zack took one look at them, rolled his eyes and shook his head. "We have to be at the venue in twenty minutes. Clean up quick, kiddies."

*

They made it in fifteen, thanks to the magic of shower-sharing and Jon blow-drying Brendon's hair so that he couldn't spend forever futzing with it. They'd style it at the venue, there would be plenty of time after soundcheck. There was a moment of panic where Brendon couldn't find any dry shoes, but Jon dug them up from Spencer's suitcase--which, seriously, Spencer's feet were four sizes bigger than Brendon's--and they were on their way. Zack looked mildly surprised and Jon gave him a smile that was half-apology, half told-you-so.

Zack kicked him in the ass as he went by.

*

Brendon made them play Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head at soundcheck. Ryan laughed at him, but went along because they'd all heard Brendon fighting with his parents. Nobody was much in the mood to deny him. Brendon came over and serenaded Jon with his guitar, and Jon rolled his eyes, but just joined in, "Because I'm freeeee, nothin's worrying meeee."

**fictionalfaerie, Jon/Gerard, rain**  
  
Gerard asked, "Can I draw you?" He whispered the question, as though he hadn't meant for Jon to hear it, but then he waited, still in that way that he only was when he was waiting to know the answer to something that actually mattered to him.

Jon tilted his head. "I take pictures of you all the time."

Gerard met his gaze. "You have to stay still."

Jon said, "I'll see what I can do."

*

They walked down to the park by Gerard's apartment. It was during the school day, so the park was pretty quiet, crisp with the arrival of early fall, but not cold. Jon laid on the blanket Gerard had brought, closing his eyes to the sun. "Do you need me to--"

"No. I don't want a pose."

Jon yawned, despite having slept in that morning. Being lazy seemed to bring on the desire to be even more lazy. "Well, okay, just tell me."

"Mm."

*

He woke to the splash of a raindrop on his face. He startled awake and noticed Gerard stuffing his notebook in the waterproof backpack he carried it in for emergencies just such as this. Gerard offered Jon a hand and Jon took it, the cold drops helping to dispell the last remnants of his nap. "Sorry I fell asleep."

Gerard's smile was honest. "It was perfect. A red leaf fell on your stomach."

Jon smiled back and the two of them made a dash for the house, but it was no use. The rain was coming fast and furious by the time they hit the edge of the park and they arrived at the house soaked to the bone. Jon shucked off his flip-flops and peeled his shirt from him. He pushed his pants down, let them pool on the floor and Gerard said, "Let me-- Can I--" he scrabbled for his notebook.

Jon shivered. "Gee, I'm cold."

"I'll turn up the heat, just-- Don't move?" Gerard gave him a pleading look and Jon cursed Brendon Urie for not innuring him to _other_ people's puppy eyes. Gerard, sensing he'd won, ran for the thermostat. Jon stayed where he was.

Gerard drew furiously, drew and drew until they were both dry in the recycled heat of the house. He shaded something in for a moment, and then said, "Thanks."

Jon said, "That's it, you're not going to let me see it?"

Gerard hesitated for a moment, but then held it out. Jon took the pad, looking at the depth Gerard had given his eyes, the way raindrops clung to his hair, splashed lightly around his toes. Everything was exaggerated and yet somehow very, very true, knowing. Jon flipped back a page to the picture of him sleeping, the red of the leaf radiating out to his heart, his fingers splayed gently over his stomach.

He set the pad aside on the desk where Gerard usually threw his keys and said, "I'm going to make out with you now."

Gerard was already making grabby hands when he said, "Oh. Okay."

**adorkable37, Jon/Ryan, rainbows**  
  
Jon knew Ryan didn't like rain. The one time Jon had ever been able to get Ryan to talk about it, Ryan had been high and Jon, uh, pretending. Normally he didn't really do that, but Ryan was a hard guy to get to know at times, and Spencer never gave up anything. If Jon had to play dirty occasionally, he wasn't above doing it. Not at all, really. Ryan had said, "Traps you inside," and nothing else, but that had been enough. Jon could extrapolate what being trapped must feel like for Ryan.

It helped Jon understand why Ryan didn't move from Vegas. He knew some of it was Spencer and Brendon, but mostly, Jon thought it was that rain was a pretty rare occurrence in Vegas, anything that meant you _had_ to stay inside was. Ryan was largely unbothered by the heat of the desert and the days when Jon was pretty sure the sun was going to kill him, Ryan would act like the earth was meant to be roughly the same temperature as his oven.

When Ryan would come visit Chicago, though, if a rain spell went on for more than a day, Ryan became fidgety and sometimes angry and Jon had more than once had to have borderline fight-sex with Ryan just to keep him calm enough to last out the storm.

It was one of those times, when Jon had to allow Ryan to pin him underneath himself, fucking Jon long after Jon was done, frustrated with the situation and his own lack of control, driving all of that into the sex, that Jon thought maybe he should force the situation. It wasn't that he couldn't handle Ryan like this, because he could, it was that Ryan was fucking happy now, Spencer and Brendon and he had worked their asses off to see to that, and he hated this, hated the regression of it.

Jon kissed Ryan when they were done, kissed him and didn't let him say, "I'm sorry," and later, when Ryan offered a round of Guitar Hero as an apology, accepted.

*

The next time it rained, Jon kept Ryan in bed all day, starting in on the sex early and keeping at it until he had exhausted Ryan, until Ryan didn't have a prayer of having enough energy to get itchy in his own skin. It was still raining the next morning, so Jon poured them each big bowls of cereal and then took them back to bed. Halfway through the day, Ryan said, "Not that I'm not man enough, but do you think we could play or something? Switch it up?"

Jon was _sore_ inside and out, but he hid his relief when he said, "I'll get the guitars."

They wrote songs without words, although Ryan was humming in a way that Jon knew meant he had something in mind. Jon hoped it was something they could actually put on a record. Sometimes Ryan was a filthy, filthy boy.

*

The rain stopped in the early afternoon, sun peering bright and foreign from behind the clouds and Jon said, "Get dressed."

"Why? Where are going?"

Jon just threw Ryan's shirt at him. Ryan made a face. "I wore this two days ago."

Jon rolled his eyes. "Get _dressed_."

He took Ryan up to the roof and walked them around it until he found the spot where the sun was reflecting just right to form a rainbow. It wasn't the most vibrant one Jon had ever seen, but the colors and lines were all there, strongly represented. Ryan said, "Oh."

Jon hooked his chin over Ryan's shoulder. "Can't have'em without rain."

"That's a metaphor, is it not, Jon Walker?"

It was kind of Jon's metaphor for _Ryan_, but there was no way to say that without sounding like a ridiculous and sentimental freak, so instead he just shrugged. "Take it as you will, Ryan Ross."

Ryan was quiet for a long moment. "Sometimes I just-- I forget. I get lost in what was."

Jon nodded slightly, his chin bumping against Ryan's shoulder. Ryan took a deep breath. "But I'll remember this."

Jon said, "There will be another, if you don't."

Ryan's hand found one of Jon's and squeezed. "I'll remember."

**imntsaying, Jon/Jepha, sunshine**  
  
It was Clover that lead Jon to Jepha. It was Brendon who smuggled Clover into the party despite Jon's insistence that the kittens stay at the hotel. He'd started traveling with them, because it was that or put up with them peeing in things like his _guitars_ because they were tired of being left at home all the time, but just because they went places with him didn't mean they went to social events with him. Except, evidently, when they did.

It was getting on in the evening when Jon heard a terribly familiar hiss and then a, "Whoa, whoa there," and went running. Sure enough, he found a guy with faceful of Clover and a Brendon Urie with his, "I'm-so-sorry-please-don't-kill-me" proactive face on. Jon peeled Clover off and said, "Bad kitty, bad," while trying to apologize to the guy, who, to his mortification, was Jepha Howard. When Jepha had reassured him that it really was all right, she probably just smelled Stella on him, Jon said, "I'm guessing this kind of ruined my chance to be subtle about enjoying your playing technique, huh?"

Jepha smiled. "I was going to ask if you'd be willing to give me a chance to make peace with your cat, so no. No, I don't think so."

"Make peace with my cat, huh?" Jon raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

Jepha laughed. "Whatever, bitch. You were going to admire my _technique_."

And Jon had to give it to him. They _both_ sucked at come ons.

*

Jepha came over to Jon's hotel room the next morning freshly showered and said, "I washed these jeans yesterday. They might already smell like my band, but I'm pretty sure they're Stella-free."

"You can relax, I gave Clover to Ryan for the day. He's trying to convince her and Hobo to be the first interspecies lesbian lovers."

"How's that going for him?" Jepha asked with a completely straight face.

"He's got his work cut out," Jon said. "But it's Ryan. Weirder shit has happened, honestly."

Jepha thought about that for a few seconds and said, "Well, okay. Wanna go for a walk?"

"You didn't miss the part where this was a booty call, right?"

"I'm high maintenance," Jepha told him.

Jon suspected he was maybe full of shit, but it was beautiful out so he said, "Walk. Fine."

*

Jepha took him to an Oren's and bought him an iced special blend, with an iced Morrocan Mint tea for himself. Jon took a sip and said, "Okay, very nice."

"Mmm, see what happens when you take your time?"

Jon smiled into the coffee cup and followed Jepha into the park. It was a perfect day. The sun was directly overhead, a little too bright, but just hot enough that the slight breeze layered into the air relieved the worst of it. Jepha's tattoos looked slick in the glare of the sun and Jon couldn't keep himself from touching a finger to one, running it lightly along the length of Jepha's forearm.

Jepha shuddered a little at the touch, nothing that anyone who didn't have their hands on him would notice. Softly, Jon asked, "Sensitive?"

Jepha shrugged and took a sip of his drink. "Sometimes. Depends on the person. Like ink?"

Jon acknowledged the point. "The right kind."

"When are you guys headed out?"

"Not for a couple of days. Thought we'd give Ryan some time with Keltie."

"Long distance, man." Jepha put his full awareness of the frustration of it into his voice.

"You guys?"

"Around for a while. Sometimes it's just best if we take breaks while recording. It helps us refocus."

Jon understood that. "Wanna go see the polar bear?"

"Fuck yeah."

"Awesome." Jon made an abrupt turn. Jepha followed without missing a beat.

*

They watched the sea lion feeding and Jon went and looked at all the reptiles with Jepha, because Jepha thought they were cool, but they freaked Bert out so he almost never got to spend much time checking them out.

Jon asked, "You go to the zoo a lot?"

Jepha said, "Not really, but that's generally what Bert does when he gets to spend time with his nieces and nephews. I'm not sure he knows what else to do with kids."

"Brendon reads them books about dinosaurs."

"I'll mention it."

"Lunch?" Jon asked.

"Dim sum?" Jepha responded, clearly hopeful.

"Okay, but you're ordering." Jon could never figure out what was what, not even with the explanations.

Evidently, that was not a deterrent.

*

They found a place with a porch and sat outside. Jepha ordered Jon barbecue pork buns and edamame pods to start and Jon started to rethink his former opinion of dim sum as not awesome. Clearly he had been misinformed.

They ate enough that when Jepha said, "You wanna walk back to the hotel?" Jon didn't even consider pointing out that it was something like seventy blocks and across the park, he just said, "Yeah."

They ended up catching a taxi fifty blocks up, but it had been a casual, relaxing fifty blocks. When they were back, Jon took Jepha up to his room, where Ryan had returned Clover. Dylan, a note on the bathroom sink told him, was with Brendon. Clover curled herself around Jepha's feet and looked up at him expectantly. He said, "Oh, I see how it is," but he picked her up and petted her until she was purring and limp.

Jon waited a good long while before saying, "My turn."


End file.
